Week thirty feels so long ago now. I
look back on these photos and remember
the long evenings, walking along
Yellowcraig beach as the sun was
setting, or at John Muir, in a blaze of
late evening light. There were grey
days too, like the afternoon when I had
a solo walk along to the harbour below
moody skies. The sea was perfectly calm,
a heavy sea, and then, briefly, light
started to appear through the cloud.
And there was that high tide walk at the
lagoons, the sea dark and choppy.
The thing that strikes me about week
thirty is that I was outside a lot, and
that’s what I’m missing now as we’re
edging through these shorter days and
longer nights of autumn. I miss our
evenings spent outdoors.